


would that i could, but i can't (so i shant)

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Clothed Masturbation, Edgeplay, F/F, Masturbation, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sexual Fantasy, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: Unable to defend herself, and at great risk of attack, the Archbishop requires personal guarding in the post-war days. Catherine jumps at the role, of course- but her hands stray far from her sword.
Relationships: Catherine/Rhea (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	would that i could, but i can't (so i shant)

Catherine stopped with a start at the sound of voices coming from downwind in the hallway. Her hand moved, on instinct, to where the holster on her hip cloistered her blade. Not Thunderbrand- not for this- but a regular sword, albeit one no less formidable in her hands. Wrapping it around the handle of the blade, her steps became slower, eyes focused on the night-shadowed darkness of the world in front of her. Despite the silent shroud of the sleeping hours, her body twitched, and she watched intently for any signs of abnormality with each silent movement forward. 

Her senses had tipped her off. Something was happening. Adjacent to Rhea’s bedchambers, at a time when the Archbishop was guaranteed to be asleep. 

Perhaps, it was to be the calamity Catherine had devoted so much of her life to preparing for. 

Keeping the rest of her body stilled, she stepped forward. Her footsteps light, breath held tight in her throat, she tried to push away the pounding sensation building in her chest. She’d heard rumours of invisible enemies, soldiers who could scent out fear. They could well be untrue- but it wasn’t worth the risk. Not when Rhea’s life was on the line. Not when she had barely clung to her existence within recent memory. 

Still, the fear was there. It pushed her onward, no matter how quiet she had to be in doing so. One step followed the next as she paced, troubled by the notion that even upon her inevitable arrival, her arrival could be much too late. Perhaps such was not the case before; but Rhea, Catherine reminded herself, was vulnerable. 

She needed to protect her. Such was the strongest, and most discernible, member of the host of desires Catherine held within herself. To deny it to herself ached, and by the time she noticed the way her footsteps had become much more rapid, it was too late for her to compel her body otherwise. The quicker she reached Rhea’s room, the quicker she’d be comforted, the quicker she’d be able to draw her blade against any approaching traitor’s neck- 

“...Mhhn.”

A single, breathy sound jarred Catherine out of her thoughts. Guilty at the realization she’d once again gotten lost within her sense of fantasy, she turned once more to Rhea’s door, now close enough to her that she could try to turn the handle, should she desire to do such. Of course, it was locked. Catherine had done that herself. But, equally, the key was hung on a hoop, one which brushed against the side of her thigh at each movement she made. 

Foreseeing that the time to use it might then have been nigh, her otherwise-unoccupied hand looped through the copper whorl. It was a difficult talk to remove the key itself, but the doorknob was close to Catherine’s hip height. Which was why Rhea had requested she take on the job of guarding her- at least, that was what Catherine had been told. With a fondness alien to the situation at hand, her face began to heat in the same fashion that it had once done in the face of serving the Archbishop so intimately. And because Rhea had memorized the dimensions of her body, no less. 

“...Ahh…”

It was only when the correct key pressed against the notch in the doorknob that another noise emerged from Rhea’s room, causing Catherine to startle. It was softer, and less like a groan than the last one. If Catherine were not trying to pay such deep attention to the matter at hand, she knew that she would have likely dismissed it as the creaking of an open window or the echoed cry of an animal. Two problems necessitating nothing more than oils and traps. 

Then, though- she pressed her body closer to the wall of Rhea’s wall, still pursuing the silent approach. To her comfort, the slight noise- something like a gasp, perhaps- was the last of them, at least in that moment. Not only that, but with the shell of her ear pressed tight and insistent to the wall, she could make out Rhea’s heartbeat. Only ever-so-faintly, but enough. Knowing that if she moved, she might lose the comforting sensation, Catherine remained pinned for what must have been minutes. Hours, even. Regardless of how strange it felt to come so close to Rhea’s heartbeat, its fast thrumming, the undoubtable proof that she was alive- 

_ Fast? _

As if to startle her once more, Catherine’s mind rewound, and dragged her away from the simple pleasure of observing her charge. It fixed, instead, on the anomaly of Rhea’s heartbeat. Catherine didn’t count herself familiar with medical science- any experience she had laid in faith magic, and even that was sparse. But she had felt the way her heart pounded underneath her skin more times than she could count. From fear, or danger, or even guilt. The knowledge that her lady could be experiencing such distress reversed her hesitation in opening the door, and she once again positioned herself where she was able to fit the key into the lock which barred her from Rhea’s personal sanctuary.

“ _ Ohh _ .”

Another noise; another jolt of frustration and confusion through Catherine’s body. Despite how her instincts screamed; Rhea’s noises did not seem to indicate distress. Rather, she couldn’t place them, not when she had grown so used to Rhea’s silence during the night. 

_ Why?  _

Her hand hesitated on the key. For some equally implacable reason, it felt like heresy to intrude on her. Particularly with her sword drawn- for Rhea to believe, even for a second, that Catherine was to turn on her, was not something Catherine was sure she could forgive herself for causing. 

Cursing under her breath, Catherine focused once more on her ear. It was still pressed up against the wall, but if her mind was occupied with conspiracy, then there would be no way for her to understand the nature of the sound. 

“F-fuck.”

The sound shook Catherine- her Lady, using such crass language. It was not something she’d had the patience for when it came from students, and while Catherine had never considered her incapable of using it, to hear it stunned her. It was transgressive- Catherine knew that, and for a brief second, she swore to turn away. 

“Good.”

Another noise. One that neutered Catherine’s considerate instincts, leaving her hissing under her breath. There was an all-too-familiar pleasure in hearing Rhea’s voice utter the word, regardless of how disjointed it was. Even when all good sense within her reminded her, on no ambiguous terms, that Rhea was not directing it at Catherine. Who was surveilling her, pressed up against the walls of her room like a man in search of some damning speech. 

A bitter part of Catherine clawed at herself. Reminded herself that she was very much the same, even when she forced the thought back with the insistence that she was protecting Rhea. Because if she was truly concerned for Rhea, she could open the door with ease, and if she were not, then no such close watch was permitted of her. If Rhea was only murmuring in her sleep, then Catherine was best to leave her to it. For both of their sakes.

And if she were doing what Catherine increasingly believed she might be- a reasonable excuse for her to be up so late, and for her heartrate to be thrumming at such giddy heights not to mention a reasonable behaviour for someone who only so recently regained their higher physicalities- well, to continue as such would make Catherine a lech. Perverted, and fixed on a display Rhea must not have thought she would be present for. 

A wet sound emanated from behind the wall, one that made Catherine grit her teeth, lest a gasp escape her throat. Not only was it unmistakably reminiscent of the times Catherine had taken care of herself, but pressed so close to the wall, she could sense the way the slick touches were muffled by hands venturing inside of flesh-lined walls. As if to commit the imagined motion to memory, the hand of Catherine’s which perched on the handle of the sword came to rest on the place where her own lips pressed against the fabric of her trousers. Through the swaddling of fabric, it generated no pleasure. But the memories doing so brought back confirmed to her what she suspected; Rhea had taken to pleasuring herself during the night. 

And that she was listening. Not solely listening, but tuning herself to Rhea’s heartbeat, fingers pressed to the faint bulge of her lips against the standard issue knightswear. Which was suddenly so very tight, her sensitivity wrapped too close beneath the coverings. It was a damned shame that she hadn’t worn something looser. Then, she might’ve been able to resist the temptation. 

But, now…

It didn’t take Catherine’s dogged focus for her to pick up on the loudest of Rhea’s moans. They were blatant, now that she’d managed to discern their meaning. Her eyes slammed shut, and she began to mimic the patterns which were evident to her; the incline and decline of Rhea’s moaning, combined with the pace of her heartbeat. Touching herself through the fabric, she knew little could be accomplished aside from self-aggrandization. Previous attempts to give in to such sensations while clothed had ended with nothing but disappointment- such was the life of a knight. But there was a distinct pleasure, a strange gratification, in knowing beyond reasonable doubt that she was in tandem with her Lady. 

_ Whose fingers _ , Rhea reminded herself,  _ are deep inside of her walls. Rubbing, perhaps stretching, while she’s trying to go as deep as she can _ . The things Catherine had done to herself before; guiltily, to the thought of Rhea. A guilt which remained present, induced by the knowledge that even if her hearing of Lady Rhea was an inevitability, her path of action was a perversion. Nothing in her briefing had stated that she had to press herself to Rhea’s walls and listen to her pleasure herself; if Rhea was to even suspect such a thing could happen, Catherine did not doubt that it would have been explicitly forbidden. And if it were forbidden, Catherine would not be doing it.

Probably. Perhaps, at least. 

“You- ah, please…”

Another one of Rhea’s moans hit Catherine, emboldened and pitchier. It was distinct; whatever fantasy Rhea was indulging with was likely to be hitting its apex, bringing Rhea alongside with it. Washed with a warm and new desire to bring herself to her Lady’s arousal, Catherine jammed her forefinger insistently to where her clitoris could be felt through her underclothes. At the numb sensation, she bit her lip; still, she wished for something greater. It was too inadvisable, though, to slip her hands into her trousers. Not only was it an impractical feat while donning even relatively light armour, but there would be no feasible excuse should Rhea catch her in the midst. She’d entertained fantasies of her just doing that before; but they were just that- fantasies. To have them play out in real life would be disastrous, regardless of the allure that she had created in her daydreams. Of Rhea finding her alone, hand inside herself, breasts exposed and breath full of hunger. Deigning to give Catherine what she desired, regardless of how disheveled and wanton she was in that moment. 

A slight grin wicked across Catherine’s face, despite the absence of anyone to perceive it. She had not outgrown her desires; indeed, she doubted that she ever would. It would always be Rhea, the woman behind the wall. 

Another one of her forefingers slipped between the faint indent she’d made by hitching her clothes up. Catherine parted herself, waiting for the moment that Rhea peaked once more to caress her most sensitive point. Part of the pleasure was acting in tandem with Rhea; it would be wasteful to miss her orgasm. Perhaps she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to that point- though she’d pursue it later at night, Catherine knew- but just the thought of it made heat pool in her stomach, ebbing on the edge of it burning her up. She waited, then, for the moment that Rhea became louder than whines and gasps, as delicious as those were. 

“Mmmh…!”

The moment Catherine heard Rhea’s next sound, she knew that Rhea had finished herself off. Even though Catherine’s attempt to mimic her fell much flatter than she would have liked, only the friction of a single thumb against her clothed arousal to feed the swelling flame inside of her, it was made resplendent by the pleasure evident in her Lady’s climax. It was almost pleasurable enough, embarrassingly, to come. But if Catherine could hear Rhea’s voice, then any sound louder than her footsteps would likely alert her. And Catherine had never been one to quiet herself at the apex of her orgasm- so, with great reluctance, she cut herself off at her peak, pressing her legs together tight and bracing soft against the wall. 

_ Another time _ .

As she predicted, after Rhea’s orgasm, her heart rate was returning to normal. Still comforting, still soft and treasured. But not as exciting, not as Catherine fought away the still-remaining shreds of her own arousal. With a soft sigh, she withdrew from the wall, still trying to muffle herself. 

It was for the best, she supposed. She’d gotten as close as she could, and to rediscover self-pleasure would hopefully improve Rhea’s mood, which remained oft-sullen even after her return to the monastery. 

If nothing else, she’d have some nothing-short-of-wonderful fuel for her own private sessions. Of Rhea deigning to invite her in for refuge during the depth of the night, cloistered in her room, and the two of them finding a more intimate way to relieve such tensions. All of the beautiful sounds she’d learnt, directed at her.

A wonderful dream, one Catherine had no doubts she’d entertain herself with as soon as Rhea returned to her rest. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter @meowcosm!
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated! ty for reading


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